


baking is for losers

by prettyholland



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Christmas, Cooking, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, chloe lyman’s hella cool guest house, friend brunches??, sam and peter’s signature movie nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 06:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16759543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyholland/pseuds/prettyholland
Summary: Peter and Sam are having a great time at Chloe Lyman’s hella cool guesthouse. Excrept, Sam has this totally not-huge-at-all crush on his best friend. Also, Peter really likes to bake for some reason.Or“So, as Sam stood there, admiring his best friend (and crush), he decided that Peter Maldonado baking was not the craziest thing he had ever seen. Not yet, at least.”





	baking is for losers

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is a little OOC, this is my first time writing for this fandom. I have invested my entire soul in AV, hope I can get a refund now that Netflix has canceled it :((((

Sam woke up at 8:30. It was their first Saturday in Chloe Lyman's sick as fuck guesthouse and they were planning on just lounging the whole day in front of her 70-inch TV and giant fireplace. They might try and do a little editing, but they haven't got much footage yet, so they were going to try to enjoy these luxuries before their workload picked up. Sam stumbled out of bed, wearing a well-worn Hanover High T-shirt and some comfy joggers. He walked to the bathroom, eyes squinting against the harsh lighting. He combed his fingers through his hair and splashed his face with water. He tried to look good (or at least presentable) every time he saw Peter because he wanted him to realize how hot he was.

He objectively knew that Peter was not going to just snap one day and be like "Oh Sam, you are so handsome!! The most beautiful boy I have ever seen in my whole life!! Come here and kiss me!!". However, it was still nice to dream that one day he would walk downstairs after a sleepover and Peter would just plant one on him.

Sam sighed looking at himself in the mirror. Nothing was worse than having a giant ass crush on your oblivious as shit best friend. He turned and headed downstairs, humming to himself. As he neared the kitchen, he could smell something sweet. He raced into the kitchen, socks sliding on the hardwood floor. He almost barreled straight into the wall.

"Whatcha doin?" He said in a poor imitation of Isabella from Phineas and Ferb.

Peter laughed without looking over from where he was standing near the stove.

"I've said it once and I will say it a thousand times - I don't understand how you and Gabi don't like that show, Sam. It was literally the best thing Disney had on at the time," Peter said defensively, finally turning from what Sam thought might be a recipe book.

"Dude, we just make fun of you because it's actually not that funny and you're so serious 'indie film and documentarian man'. It's just so weird that you have a passion for Phineas and Ferb," Sam replied as he walked over to see what Peter was working on.

Peter elbowed him in the stomach and Sam pretended to cry. Peter then responded by punching him in the arm until Sam punched back - hard.

"Alright, how about we do something more productive than hit each other? Go grab the chocolate chips from the cupboard and set them on the island."

Sam did as he was asked and then finally took a good, long look at what Peter was making. The recipe was for fudge chocolate brownies. Sam almost died right then and there.

"Brownies, Pete? It's like you can read my mind, I've been craving them forever!" Sam said dramatically, grasping at Peter's arm.

Peter laughed. "That's why I made them, you idiot. You've been talking about it nonstop for the past 72 hours and now you've got me craving them too!"

Sam laughed in return and then started helping Peter around the kitchen. His style of healing mainly consisted of opening and closing the oven door and maybe mixing something for a couple of minutes. Sam just watched Peter the whole time, admiring his precise movements and fluid motion. Peter had always been one to think things out and know his next move exactly. Hence, Vandal. But, baking never seemed like something he would be into. Now that Sam thought about it, however, it does seem like it would bring him a lot of peace. Peter would relish the pride he would get from taking a recipe from ingredients to finished product. And with baking being so precise, he would enjoy it even more.

So, as Sam stood there, admiring his best friend (and crush), he decided that Peter Maldonado baking was not the craziest thing he had ever seen. Not yet, at least.

-

Peter finished the brownies around 10:30. They both had them for breakfast, along with some fruit Sam had cut while he was waiting for Peter to finish up. It felt so domestic to him - the way they moved with bumping into each other and loaded everything on to the plates in sync. Sam wished it could be like this everyday, just with a little more kissing while they waited for the oven to beep. It was such luxury, yet such torture for him to be so close to Peter, and so far from what he really wants with him.

They ate breakfast in silence, occasionally telling the other how good the brownies were and showing each other stupid memes. Soon after, they quickly retreated into their own spaces. Sam to his room and Peter to the living room. Sam spent hours alternating between lying on the bed and sitting at the desk, trying to get homework done but mainly just watching Netflix and going on his phone. He finally came out of his room around 1:30, when he smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen. He walked out to see Peter once again standing over a cookbook, stirring something in a pot on the stove.

"What are you making now?" Sam asked curiously.

Peter looked up, surprised to see Sam. "Oh, I was just gonna call you and tell you that lunch is ready. Since it's so cold up here, I thought I would make some pozole because that's what my mom makes me every time it gets cold back in Oceanside."

Sam knows of Ms. Maldonado's famous pozole. He's even had it a couple of times. He appreciates the thought that Peter would want to make it for him, though.

"Alright, Petey-boy, let's see how your pozole stacks up to your mom's!"

Peter ladled the soup into two bowls and set them on the island. They both sat in the bar stools in front of the island and dug into their meal.

Sam almost moaned at how good it tasted.

"Fuck, Peter, how did you make this so good?"

"I dunno know, just years of helping my mom with dinner, I guess."

Sam downed the bowl as fast as he could and then got up to refill it.

"Seriously, Peter, this is amazing," Sam said, a gentle smile on his face. "You're really fucking good, dude."

Peter just returned his smile and went back to eating his soup. After, they both curled up on the couch (close but definitely not touching), to watch a movie. Their Saturday night movies were a tradition that time nor place could touch. This week was Sam's week to pick. Since it was so close to Christmas, he picked How the Grinch Stole Christmas with Jim Carrey. He loved that film, and he knew Peter enjoyed it, so he figured they could both get something out of watching it.

They laughed and cracked jokes during the movie, and finished off Peter's brownies from that morning. When it was finally over, Peter checked his watch and swore.

"Shit, I was supposed to be making dinner already. It's gonna be a little late, alright Sam?"

Sam got up without thinking and started gathering all their dishes.

"Peter, don't worry about it, seriously dude. Many hands make light work, right? Let me help you and we'll finish faster."

Peter nodded thoughtfully and helped to clear their dishes. They worked together to make some orange chicken, chow mein, and rice. Apparently, Peter could cook something from everywhere. Already, he had told Sam about his plans to make gyros tomorrow and empanadas the day after that.

It made Sam's heart squeeze and his stomach flip every time he thought about how domestic this was. They were moving around the kitchen in sync, never once bumping into each other. They knew what to hand the other without being asked, and were always on the same step. However, some things Peter did made Sam rethink his idea that his crush was unrequited.

He was always touching Sam when he handed him an ingredient or a measuring cup or something. A slight brush of fingers there, an arm lingering almost too long here. Then, he was always close to Sam. Whether they were standing and talking or sitting and eating, Peter was right there next to Sam. The last piece of the puzzle was that sometimes Sam thought he saw Peter's gaze fall from his eyes to his mouth. Sam would lick his lips sometimes, just to test his theory, and Peter's gaze would snap right back up, as if it had never left. So, deep down in Sam's heart, he was hopeful about Peter's feelings.

-

Over the next few weeks, the domestic bliss slowly wore off and they were getting on each other's nerves more often than not. Peter would yell at Sam for not washing his dishes, then Sam would yell at Peter for not doing his laundry. It was a never ending cycle of needless nitpicking and pettiness. While they still enjoyed their time together watching movies and cooking, every other part of their life seemed to be fraying at the edges.

Now, Sam wasn't so sure if this was a good idea anymore.

One Saturday morning, the week before Christmas, Sam awoke to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He walked over to the door, blinking sleep out of his eyes. He opened it to see Peter already dressed and ready to go. He was wearing a nicer outfit today, a burgundy shirt with black slacks and new black Vans.

"What's the matter, dude? It's only, like, 7 in the morning."

Peter let out a short, curt laugh. "It's 8:30, Sam. And we have to be in Chloe's real house in 15 minutes to eat breakfast with her and some people from St. Bernie's."

Sam looked at the clock. "Shit, I totally spaced on that. Forgot what day it was. Let me change and comb my hair and I'll be right out."

Sam pulled on a navy shirt covered in small white polka dots and some slate grey pants. He slipped on some white Vans and then tried to make his hair look like it did every other day. Then, he splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth. He was out the door with Peter within 10 minutes.

They came bursting through the door of Chloe's house to see her DeMarcus, Jenna, Lou, and Tanner. Odd combination of people.

Turning his head at their rushed entrance, DeMarcus quickly stood up to greet them. He stopped short as he noticed something.

"Yo, Peter and Sam, y'all gotta take a look at whats above your heads."

Sam slowly looked up to see a small sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorframe. He looked at Peter. His face was drawn together in the way it did when he was thinking something through, all tight and hidden. Then, he looked over to the group of people sitting at Chloe Lyman's dinner table.

"Cmon, y'all gotta kiss. It's the rules, man!" DeMarcus continued.

Everyone at the table looked at them expectantly. Sam tunes to Peter.

"Well, we gotta do it, right? Can't refuse something from the people in our doc. Maybe the trusting is will make them more likely to spill something later," Peter whispered.

It looked to Sam like he was trying to convince himself.

"Yeah, just a quick peck. That never hurt anybody, right?" Sam replied.

"No, of course not," Peter said back nervously.

Then, he was leaning in. Sam closed his eyes, and felt Peter’s lips on his. They were slightly chapped, and he could feel Peter’s eyelashes, soft as feathers. He could smell Peter’s cologne - and something else entirely _Peter_.

It was the best 5 seconds of Sam’s life.

They quickly pulled apart, both flushed and awkward. They walked over to the table and sat down. Sam asked DeMarcus about his latest game, eager to change the group’s focus. Chloe pulled Peter into the kitchen to help her bring the food out and pour the drinks. Soon, the table was laden with breakfast food. Pancakes, bacon, sausages, fruit, eggs, hash browns, and even some conchas. Peter and Sam quickly dug into those.

“So who made all this food?” Peter asked, mouth full of concha and lips covered in pink sugar. Sam wanted to kiss it off.

“Our chef, Maria. She’s here everyday from 5-10,” Chloe said casually before turning back to talk to Tanner about some school project they were doing together.

Peter and Sam looked at each other and made sarcastic eye contact. Damn, these people really were rich. No one else at the table even batted an eye at the statement. Sam bet that they all had chefs.

After digging in for a bit, Sam and Peter made conversation with everyone. They talked about St. Bernie’s and basketball, school life and relationships, even what their parents did for a living. Sam kicked Peter under the table every time he started to sound a little too “documentarian”-like.

Breakfast (more like brunch) ended at around 1pm, after everyone finished talking and helping to clear the table. Peter and Sam made their way back to the guesthouse soon after.

-

For the rest of the day, Sam didn’t see Peter. Their relationship had been bad enough already, but this was taking it to the next level. Was Peter freaked out by their little kiss under the mistletoe this morning?

Sam himself had been thinking about it all day. He kept remembering the way Peter’s lips felt and how soft his eyelashes were. He wanted to kiss Peter again - but this time, run his fingers through his hair, figure out what his mouth tastes like, put his arms around his waist.

Sam wanted to do a lot of things, really. Some were appropriate, a lot weren’t. But, he couldn’t even focus on those nice R-rated thoughts because his head was consumed with wondering why Peter was avoiding him. It had to be the kiss.

Peter was Mr. Straight-Man 100%. He was probably freaked out that he kissed a guy. That had to be it. Peter just couldn’t handle what he was dealing with now that he had kissed Sam. He probably hadn’t liked it at all. And, Sam kinda pressured him into it. He probably hated Sam now because of that.

-

When the clock hit 8pm and Sam’s phone finally ran out of battery, he decided it was time to confront Peter. It was 8 o’clock on a Saturday night and Peter hadn’t invited him out for movie night yet. Now, Sam was pissed. Nothing -nothing - had ever come between them and their Saturday night movie nights. Not even the flu or a giant fight. Sam wasn’t going to let Peter’s annoying straightness interfere with their most beloved tradition.

Sam stalked out into the living room to see Peter lying on the couch, scrolling through something on his computer. He looked comfy - he was wearing an oversized army green sweater and had a blanket across his lap. In fact, he didn’t even look mad or conflicted. That made Sam even more pissed.

“So, that’s it, huh? One little kiss under the mistletoe and 9 years of movie nights down the drain?” Sam said, his anger seeping into his voice.

Peter looked up. Suddenly, Sam could see the bags under his eyes.

“You haven’t come out of your room once, Sam. What was I supposed to think?” Peter said tiredly.

“Well, maybe I didn’t come out because the minute we got back you fucked off to _your_ room without a word. You’ve been distant for weeks. So, tell me, what the fuck is going on?” Sam practically spit out.

Peter looked at him, his expression going from tired to angry. “It’s none of your business, Sam. Why don’t you just stop trying to stick your nose in other people’s shit? Oh wait, that’s all you ever do!”

Sam let out a bitter laugh. “That’s _rich_ , coming from the fucking documentarian. You’ve made your name by ‘sticking your nose in other people’s shit’!”

Peter stood up from the couch. “You’re only here cause I gave you that chance, Sam! And don’t try to give me shit for being ‘distant’ or whatever the fuck. You’ve been hiding outin your room everyday for the past three weeks. And don’t think I can’t hear you Skyping Gabi. What, did you finally get the balls to ask out the girl of your dreams?”

Sam sputtered, trying to think of some type of response. Peter laughed and continued.

“Oh, so that’s how it is, huh? We come to Washington, have some good ol’ bro time for about 3 seconds and then you fuck off to have Skype sex or some shit like that with Gabi? You’re so pathetic.You’re probably gushing about her eyes and her face-”

As soon as he heard that, Sam saw red.

“I’ve been gushing about your eyes, you idiot!” He yelled.

Suddenly, the room became deathly quiet.

“I’ve been gushing about your eyes,” Sam said in an almost-whisper. “I’ve been gushing about your face and your glasses and the cute way your forehead crinkles when your trying to solve a new problem in the case. I’ve been gushing about your cooking and how it drives me wild that you can bake almost any dessert. I’ve been gushing about your laugh and your smile and the way you always know what joke will make me laugh when I’m sad. I’ve been gushing about _you_ , Peter.”

Sam waited a couple of seconds, looking for any type of response from Peter. When he didn’t seem to want to give any, Sam cracked.

“Peter, please,” he said, face falling and eyes welling up. “I’ve put it all out there. All my cards are on the table. Just say something.”

He waited a little longer. Still nothing. It seemed like his confession had short circuited Peter’s brain.

Peter Maldonado. The boy who always has something to say, silent. Sam never thought he’d live to see the day.

He turned, ready to head back to his room and cry it out. He walked about 15 steps away before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sam, wait. I- I should tell you something.”

Sam turned.

“I’ve had a crush on you since 6th grade. These last few weeks have just freaked me out because of how close we’ve been. It- it just feels so nice, you know? Having you so close to me all the time. The kiss today - it sealed the deal. I knew that if I spent one minute longer with you, I wouldn’t be able to resist doing it again. I- I just made a mistake, okay? I thought this was what you wanted, I really did,” Peter said, face turning regretful as he talked.

“Then do it,” Sam ordered.

“Do what?”

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

And Peter did. He pulled Sam in by the waist, gripping him by his hips. He kissed him slowly at first. Sam slid his hands through Peter’s soft hair. As they continued to kiss, Sam gave a soft moan when Peter reached to touch his cheek. Peter took that opportunity to make his way into Sam’s mouth. Peter tasted his way around Sam’s mouth, seemingly making a map of it with his tongue. Sam returned the favor.

Peter tasted like chocolate, a faint hint of mint and then something wholly _Peter_. Sam laughed to in his head at the thought. Peter must have made though sinful fudgey brownies again.

They pulled apart to breath sometime after that. Sam looked at Peter, hair mussed up and cheeks a blushing pink. Sam figured he must look about the same. He didn’t want it to get awkward again.

“So, wanna make some cookies or something? Movie night can wait 30 minutes.”

Peter smiled at him. He looked grateful for the sentiment.

“Sounds great. How about chocolate chip?” Peter said as they walked into the kitchen.

“No, you know double chocolate fudge is my favorite!” Sam replied with an easy laugh.

-

In the end, Sam did get his wish. As the cookies baked, he and Peter made much better use of their time than before. And it didn’t hurt that Peter was somehow an extremely good kisser. (Like seriously, how did he get so good??)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! I love AV so much so this was a dream to write. Hope I did well :))) Make sure to check me out on tumblr. I’m on there as @/zojnks. (Also, sequel, hmmmm?? Leave a comment if you want a little follow up)


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